In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(32)

Even so, I felt terrifyingly certain that there would be nowhere on this Godsdamned ship that would be far enough away.

“Not good,” Lachlan whispered over my shoulder. “You all right? You seem…”

I disregarded him and called behind me to where Theodore and his council still stood. “To perform the spell, I’ll need a launch.” At the nearest mast, I stopped. The rocking of the ship made my wound ache, but Lachlan was there at my side, an arm at my back to steady me. “And your wife.”

Theodore froze. When he finally responded, he sounded utterly bewildered. “My what?”

Anger ripped through my chest. I whirled and our gazes crashed together across the deck. “Your wife.”

For once, he’d forgotten his armor, his every emotion laid bare. A sort of stunned recognition chiseled his face, as if the new day had revealed something heinous he’d committed in the dark. He gave his head a minuscule shake, and in a breath, righted himself.

The middling-looking man who had helped bar Halla from me stepped forward. “This is preposterous.” He threw his dark golden hair from his face and tightened the ties of his silken robe. From the affected way he held himself, the unhurried gate, the precise cut of his beard, it was clear he fancied himself a man of some significance. One to be heard. “What, precisely, do you need with Queen Halla? You cannot think the kingdom of Varya would allow you to take its king’s wife as hostage.”

When I took a step toward him, he gave a small flinch. “Who are you?”

“I am—” He smoothed a thin hand down the front of his chest, as if fortifying himself. “I am Markis Gabros, Varya’s steward. And a lauded and revered member of the king’s council.”

“Lauded and revered?” I gave him a slow smile. “I am neither of those things, yet it seems I had the benefit of a better governess than you, Master Gabros, because my lessons taught me that I, a Leucosian queen, have every right to make a hostage of someone who causes harm to my people.”

Halla gave a laborious wail from where she stood behind Eftan. “I have hurt no one.”

“You have devoted yourself to a monster who hunts and kills Sirens. You have willingly given her your flesh and blood,” I snapped. “Eusia has started to form a taste for Varians as well, did they tell you?”

Halla’s face flushed red, but she only glared on in silence.

Lachlan stood at my back, a palpable shadow, as I went on. “So you should have no objection at all about giving your blood to me, Halla, considering you are now tasked with Varya’s care too.”

A beam of morning light, orange as flame, cut across the deck. It lit Theodore’s broad chest and inscrutable face. “I request a conclave.”

He wanted to meet with me alone—just us monarchs.

Eftan shook his head wildly. “I suggest against it, Your—”

Theodore held up a hand. “Silence.” He looked at me with such single-minded attention that the rest of the world seemed to slip from his consciousness.

But I saw it all. The sun lit everything with shining clarity. The stoic woman in blue robes reminded me of a sturdy pillar. She stood straight, her black hair slicked and marbled with white, and the pleats of her heavy clothes were so perfectly uniform they appeared as carved grooves. Eftan was as he’d ever been, stout and prim, scowling and indignant. And utterly disappointed in his king. He didn’t bother hiding it.

Lachlan had been right to worry that Theodore’s council would turn on him. And I… I’d been right to leave when I had. I forced my attention back to Theodore and his torturous gaze. “I deny your request.”

I wanted to curl back into my hammock belowdecks. I had never wished for Theodore to see me like this, desperate and empty, with matted hair and a body crushed by pain and grief. And yet there he stood, his gaze locked on me in the morning light.

“Halla, I’m certain your husband is downhearted to know you have fed such a terrible monster for so long.” I pulled myself straight, keeping my eyes on her. “Helping me with this spell will surely win you back some favor. That is what you wish for, isn’t it? Favor?”

Halla looked to Theodore with rounded, desperate eyes, and I knew I’d struck the proper chord. It was favor she sought.

Eftan had turned crimson. He pushed his way toward me. “This is a farce. Your Majesty, if we give another moment of our attention to this proscribed criminal, I will see to it that—”

“That what?” Theodore cut him off, threat tensing his every muscle. Even in the face of one of his king’s most reductive glowers, Eftan kept his head high.

The captain had ordered a launch boat to be readied. Beside me, sailors heaved it on its pulleys, but I’d fallen motionless, arrested by the way Theodore strode toward me with staggering purpose. Too close, too fast.

Lachlan urged me toward the launch. “Get in.”

As I hurried to do so, a hand clamped around my wrist. It was hot, and firm, and sent sparks shooting up my arm. My body pulsed as Theodore tugged me toward him until my shoulder pressed into his hard chest.

Lachlan lunged. “Let her go.”

But neither he nor I moved. The world seemed to turn misty. There was only Theodore’s menacing face tipped down to mine and his heat seeping through me. Slowly, he raised his other hand and took the front of my uniform into a tight fist.